by Remy Rose
The night we ended up in the hayloft.
Nope. Not gonna go there.
I’m standing in front of the bedroom mirror, studying my reflection. I straightened my hair tonight, partly because I want something different, and let's be honest, partly because it’s the opposite hairstyle of what Carlo likes. I put on a cobalt blue infinity scarf to brighten up my oatmeal-colored sweater, slip on my tall brown boots and pick up my phone from the nightstand. Carlo’s been texting me every night, usually late, so it’s the last thing I have on my mind before I go to sleep (or try to). I have no doubt this is his plan. His messages are short, but reading them always jolts me, no matter how much I try to prepare myself when I hear the text notification. So I’m still somewhat under his control. Fucking annoying.
I walk into the living room, my eyes drawn to the potted orchid on the floor in front of the picture window. Carlo sent it to me last week, and I immediately stuck it in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, beside the trash can. Then I felt guilty because it’s a living plant, and I could at least do something useful with it. So I decided I’ll give it to Allison, who most likely doesn't get flowers too often.
The card on the plant said he'd searched to find the “perfect” flower to symbolize me, and the orchid apparently represented rare beauty and “proud, glorious femininity.” Whatever the hell that meant. Under different circumstances, I might be touched that someone would do this for me. But this feels like more control. And I’ll cling like hell to that, no matter how many times the thought that he might be sincere worms its way into my brain.
By the time I get to the pub, I’m feeling better about going out. It’s not quite like the feeling you get when you’re anticipating maybe meeting somebody hot; it’s more like an overall good vibe, that it feels right to be doing this instead of moping alone in my apartment with a box of Swiss rolls.
Teal’s waving at me from one of the trestle tables in the corner. Good—she’s alone, so this will give us a little time to catch up before her other friends get here.
“Hey, girlfriend! You look gorge! I like your eye shadow—makes your eyes look all smoky.”
“Thanks. You look great, too. Love the off-the-shoulder top. Hey...can this be like on Facebook when girls say, 'oh, you're soo beautiful!' and then the other person goes, 'thanks hun, but I think you're perfect.' And it goes back and forth like that for about twenty comments.”
Teal snorts. “So true. But seriously, you look awesome. Trying something different with the straightened hair?”
“Yep. One of several changes. How are classes going?”
“Fine. Studying for the LSAT has been kicking my ass, though. But I don't want to talk school. I want to hear what's new with you...we have a few minutes before my peeps get here. You'll really like 'em.”
“All girls, right?”
“Well...basically.”
“Excuse me?”
“One of them's a guy—” Teal puts up her hand as I start to protest. “But he's gay. So it doesn't count.”
“Okay. Jesus, I was about to freak out.”
“You know I wouldn't do that to you. How are you holding up?”
“I'm all right, I guess.”
“This is me you're talking to, remember?”
I sigh. “It sucks. I try not to think about him, but of course, in trying not to, I am.”
“I get that. It probably doesn't help that he keeps contacting you. He's persistent, I'll give him that.”
“Yes.” I reach into my purse for my phone and swipe my finger across the screen to find his texts. “Check these out.”
Teal takes the phone, her eyebrows lifting as she reads the messages out loud. “'Remember, I always get what I want...I've been thinking about you constantly, and I have no doubt you've been thinking about me as well...We had a strong connection right from the day we met, one that can't be ignored...I'm not ready or willing to let you go, Cassandra...Let me show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me...' Jesus, girl, you're up against it, aren't you?”
“He's right about the connection. But I have to keep fighting it...try to move on and cut him out of my life. For good.”
“And you're going to do that how?”
“I'm going to keep ignoring his attempts. I haven't been responding to his texts, I don't answer when he calls, and I almost threw away this orchid he had delivered to me.”
“Almost?”
“I'm bringing it in to Tucker's and giving it to Al. No sense wasting a beautiful flower.”
“I see.”
“And I mailed back the jewelry he gave me. Taped the shit out of the box.”
Teal laughs. “Good for you.”
Our server appears to take drink orders. Teal asks for hand-cut fries for each of us and turns her attention back to me. “So you're determined.”
“Very. I'm also trying to move forward in other ways...like going out with you, for example. I need to hang out with people more. I've even been thinking of working on a degree, if I can swing it financially.”
“Seriously, Cass? That's awesome!”
“I'm trying to save more money, and supposedly, I'm getting a raise at Windswept. Don't laugh, but I'm thinking of going into equestrian studies.”
“Why would I laugh? It's your passion, so you should follow it. I can totes see you running your own stable someday.”
“Me too. That's my dream. And maybe have therapeutic riding for children. Wilson College in Chambersburg has this amazing equestrian center. They're about an hour away, so I was thinking I could just start out by taking one class, to see how I like it. Or I could do mostly online classes, which would be less stressful.” I pause. This is the tough one. “And I'm also going to try and find my father.”
Teal's eyes widen, apprehension crossing her face. “Wow. Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, after the shit he put you through, and your poor mom. Won't it just open up old wounds?”
“I'd like to think of it as healing old wounds. I feel like I have to confront him. Up until now, it's like I've been avoiding the pain in my life.” Lowering my voice, I whip a napkin out of the holder, feeling dangerously close to tears. “I put on a good front, but inside, I feel so fucking weak and vulnerable. I want what I show people and what I actually feel to be the same thing.”
I presented a false front to Carlo, acting like I was strong and independent not because I really was, but because I wanted to keep from being hurt. He saw through the facade—saw the real, scared-shitless Cassandra in all my pathetic vulnerability and then zeroed in for the kill. Okay, maybe not kill, but every time I was with him, it felt like a near-death experience.
“I am so goddamned impressed with you, nugget. It hasn't even been very long, but it sounds like you're really on your way. And you know I'm always here for you. You don't have to put on any front for me.”
“I know.” I dab my eyes with the napkin and take a deep breath. “I'm so lucky to have you. And now can we stop talking about this? I really want to get my drink on.”
Grinning, Teal reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Let's do it, girlfriend.”
After a couple rounds of Killians, my mood improves. I feel relaxed, bubbly—giggly, at times. I know a lot of it’s because of the alcohol, but there’s major relief that I can allow myself to let go and just be, not brood. Teal's friends immediately put me at ease: athletic-looking Whitney, a communications major and Teal's sorority sister; future lawyer Patrice, a gorgeous brunette with rich, mahogany skin; and Kevin, a tall, thin senior with glasses who works in the campus bookstore. I was a little uncomfortable that they’d talk college classes, and while there was a little of that, most of the conversation is about the Eagles' playoff chances, the best nightspots in the area and This Is Us. By the time the night’s over, I find myself telling them I'd love to get together again soon.
Teal walks me to my car. “I'm so glad you came. And by came, I of course don't mean orgasm. Unless you had one at the table that I didn
't know about.”
“Um, no. Haven't been down that road for a while.”
“Maybe it's time you did. Just to keep everything in good working order. Good stress release, too.”
“Is sex all you think about?”
“Pretty much. I'm hoping to get some tonight after Garrett gets done his gig.” She yawns. “If I can stay awake. Tired sex is a lot of work. Anyway...stay in touch with me, and we'll go out again soon. Plus, think about going to Thanksgiving with me. I really could use you, you know, as a buffer between me and my mother. You don't have to eat the turkey, Ms. Vegetarian.”
“Pescetarian. I'll think about it. Thanks again for everything.”
I hug Teal hard and get into my car, the early November wind ruffling my hair. The night’s chilly, and I shiver as I start up the Malibu. I look down at the dark screen of my phone on the passenger seat. I turned it off so I wouldn't be interrupted by any contact from Carlo, but obviously, I’d find out sometime if he'd texted or called. Better to check now and then decompress, if necessary, on the ride home.
Sighing, I wait for the car to warm up and turn on my phone. One missed call at 9:45 p.m., followed by one text.
I need to see you. And very soon, I will.
Tremors course through my body, this time from a chill deep inside. God damn him to hell for persisting.
And God damn me to hell for being even a little bit glad that he is.
chapter thirteen ~ Carlo
If things were different with Cassandra, I would have invited her along to lunch with me and my sister. She and Gianna could get to know each other better, and I could sit back and watch them talk and laugh—feel good about the bond they would make.
If only.
I still need to tell Gi that Cassandra and I are on hold for the time being. She’ll want to know more, will probably press me on it, but she’s usually good about respecting my privacy once she realizes I need her to.
Even though I haven’t heard a thing from Cassandra since she mailed me back the jewelry almost two weeks ago, my want for her hasn’t let up at all. If anything, it’s grown even stronger. I’ve been waking up with huge hard-ons that I’ve had to take care of before I could go back to sleep. I fantasize about different ways I want to take her: propped up on her elbows in bed, her perfect ass in the air, her thick hair wrapped around my hand...holding her arms above her head while I lay on top of her, pumping...Cassandra bracing herself against the wall as I pound into her, the force of my thrusts making her gasp...
I want to fuck her. I want her more than I’ve wanted anything.
Not the place or time to be thinking about this, sitting in Pepino's, Gi’s favorite Mexican restaurant, waiting for my sister to get here. I’m looking around when a woman with reddish hair catches my eye. She’s pretty and reminds me of Cassandra. She gets flustered with my staring, so I look down at my phone, feeling a familiar stab of disappointment because there’s no text from Cassandra—even though I know I can’t expect one. I more than deserve her distance and her silence.
The door opens, and in comes Gianna, full of smiles and apologies, looking adorable in a long dress splashed with color. She hugs me, her long, dark hair grazing my face. I kiss her on one cheek, then the other. “I ordered you a drink. It's not nice to keep your big brother waiting, cara signorina.”
“Sorry I'm late,” she says breathlessly. “Traffic from Villanova was awful.”
“I'm teasing. I don't have much going on today, anyway. It's good for me to be forced to sit and do nothing. Even though we both know that's against my nature.”
“Uh, yes! Very true.” She slips off her sweater and puts it over the chair, her dark eyes shining. “It's so good to see you. How are things? Have you been busy?”
“Somewhat. A few challenges at work, but nothing I can't handle.”
“And personally?”
“A few challenges there as well.”
“Hmm...I don't know if I like the sound of that.”
The waiter brings over a strawberry margarita, a Negra Modelo and chips and salsa. Gianna takes her glass and sips. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“How's the semester going?”
“It's great, thanks. I love my classes. I swear, if I could, I'd just be a perpetual student.”
“That may very well happen, if you keep changing majors.”
“Carlo! I changed once.” She looks at me indignantly, arms folded across her chest.
Makes me laugh. “I can't take you seriously, cara, when you’re trying to be pissed at me.”
She gives me a face, tucking her glossy hair behind her ear and trying not to smile. “I never could stay pissed at you, even when you used to pick on me when we were little.”
“Pick on you? I seem to recall protecting you.”
“I guess that's true.” She runs her finger around the edge of her margarita glass, licking the sugar off and winking. “I know, terrible manners. Mama would definitely not approve.”
“No. You're lucky you’re cute enough to get away with it.”
“Yes, I am. So...Carlo. What would you say to a wedding about six months from now?”
“Six months? Don't couples usually stay engaged for a couple of years nowadays?”
“Not when they're madly in love. Jordan wants to go to Europe for the summer—a combination extended honeymoon and photography venture—so an early May wedding would work for us. We want to get married at the house in Maine. With your permission, of course.”
“The house belongs to both of us, Gi. How big of a wedding are we talking?”
“A fairly small one. I want it to be intimate. Jordan isn't into anything big and fancy, and I'm good with that.”
I raise my glass. “To your wedding, then. I'll take care of whatever you need.”
She touches her glass to mine, her face flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, my fratello dolce.”
“You know I would do anything for you.”
“I do know that,” she says softly. “Now I want to hear about you—your personal challenges. Those are much more interesting than business ones.”
Ah, shit. I knew this was inevitable, and if I’m going to be honest with myself, part of me wants to talk with someone I completely trust. “All right. If you have to know, Cassandra and I are on a...break.”
“Ughh, why? Didn't you follow my advice and just ask her out?”
“I wish it had been that easy, Gi.” I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. How the fuck to explain this...obviously, I can’t tell my little sister much. “I don't want to go into detail, but I ended up—hurting her. I never meant to, but my past is still very much with me, and I let it take over without considering how it might affect her.”
Gianna wrinkles her nose in confusion. “I don't know what you mean.”
“It's best that way, cara. I don't want to tell you any more. The bottom line is, she has a legitimate right to be very upset with me.”
“Then you need to show her you're sorry and make it up to her. Not only because you care about her, but because you need to do the right thing.”
“I'm trying, Gi. She's been very resistant.”
“If there's one thing I know about you, fratello, is that you don't give up easily.”
“True.”
“I have faith in you. And I know your heart—I'm one of the few people you've let get close enough to see the real you.”
I take a long drink of my beer, savoring the clean, malt flavor. It’s going to hurt like hell to say what I’m going to say next, but Gianna understands the whole situation. “They asked me to come for the holidays again. Even before I sent the flowers.”
Her dark eyes fill with empathy. “Of course they did. They ask you every year, because they really want you to. How did you respond?”
“I thanked them but said I was spending the holidays with you and Jordan.”
“But you won't, even though you know you're welcome. And you'll be alone, and I'll worry about you, like usual.�
�� She sighs. “Carlo, did you ever consider you'd be doing it for them, more than for you? That they want you there because you're a link to her?”
“I hadn't thought about it, no. I try not to think about it.”
“Well, maybe it's time you should. Maybe the only way you'll be able to move forward and not let the past affect you is to face this head on, as painful as it is.”
I’m struggling with how to respond when the waiter shows up to take our order—burritos and refried beans with another round of drinks.
Gianna isn’t done with me yet. Her expression is somber. “It was an accident, Carlo.”
“It was my fault. I lost control.”
“You don't even remember anything except waking up. The police weren't even sure about what happened. And you weren't charged with anything.”
Her arms tight around his waist, her mouth at his ear...the wind whipping her long brown hair so it danced wildly as she tossed her head. She had always refused to wear a helmet, despite his insistence. Her free spirit had gotten the best of him—trumped his common sense—and he had grudgingly accepted her choice. And he had let her convince him to go just a little bit faster, because she’d loved the thrill of speed.
I’ll regret both of those decisions for the rest of my life.
chapter fourteen ~ Cassandra
For the third time tonight, I forgot to bring something to one of my tables. The first time it was silverware, the second time it was drinks, and this time it’s the take-out meal the people ordered. Flustered, I apologize and go to the kitchen to grab it. Waitressing is second nature to me, so it’s annoying that I’m so effing distracted.
I’ll have to blame it on the lack of sleep last night. And the dream.
It had felt so real. I was lying in Carlo's bed alone, completely naked and trembling with both fear and excitement. The room was dim, candles flickering like they were the night we were last together. The bedroom door opened to reveal Carlo standing before me, light from the hallway spilling in around his silhouetted form. He was shirtless, wearing only dark pants, and I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Cassandra...I've been waiting for you.” I started to shake, then, at the rich desire in his tone.